


Into That Good Night

by amybeegood



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cancer, Coping After a Loss, Explicit Language, F/M, Former High School Sweethearts, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Based On a Dylan Thomas Poem, It's sad but I had to write it, Marijuana Use, Mention of Drunk Driving/DUI, Pain Train, Poetry, Suicidal Ideation, YOUR HEART WILL HURT, You will cry your eyes out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amybeegood/pseuds/amybeegood
Summary: Ben Solo has lived a full life, a good life...but he always wondered about his high school sweetheart, the one that got away.Now, in the face of tragedy, an old flame reignites. Or, maybe the flame has been burning all along. But softly.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 117
Kudos: 313





	1. Do Not Go Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning on keeping this on anon forever. Mostly because it's very different from my usual stuff and also because I bawled my eyes out writing it and thinking about it. But since this story is about love and overcoming horrible grief, and also since the world is kinda full of a lot of terrible shit right now...well, I guess this was just me processing a lot of sad feelings.

# Chapter One: Do Not Go Gentle

## Do not go gentle into that good night

_Do not go gentle into that good night,_   
_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._   
  
_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_   
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
  
_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_   
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._   
  
_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_   
_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
  
_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_   
_Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._   
  
_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_   
_Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray._   
_Do not go gentle into that good night._   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953_

The day they meet again is like any other day. A fall day, nothing special. Not a holiday or a workday or a birthday. Just a regular day.

But Ben just got the worst news of his life and for him, this day is particularly un-special. Sort of a red-letter day, but not the kind of red-letter day he ever wants to remember or live through again.

The cancer is back.

The prognosis isn’t great.

They want to do another round of chemo, maybe try some more aggressive treatment, probably more radiation, but dammit he’s been down that road before and all he got for his trouble was skinny and bald and sores in his mouth and aches in his bones.

Oh, and it made him sterile, too, which hit his pride harder than he’d expected it would.

Not that it means anything since his wife died fifteen years ago and he’s not planning on starting a family at this stage in life. But somehow, having that door permanently closed to him just feels like a real shot to the gut.

_I’ll never have kids of my own. Not that women are banging down the door…not that anyone would want to. Nah. My life is over._

But the baldness is definitely the worst.

He knows he’s a grown-ass fifty-two-year-old man and his vanity doesn’t mean shit to anyone but him. But if he doesn’t have any hair, then his ears stick out, and he’s never been self-conscious about much of anything except for his ears.

Still, it shouldn’t matter if he’s sterile and soon to be bald again, since he isn’t planning on dating.

The universe must be laughing its ass off, and Ben wonders what else could possibly happen to make things worse.

He flashes a polite smile to the young lady behind the desk who holds up a finger and mouths “just one second, sir, thank you.”

He figures storming off would be rude, and if near twenty years in the military taught him anything, it’s manners. And how to wait.

So, he waits and tries to keep a good-natured expression on his face, even as he internally debates whether he’s even going to bother with putting himself through cancer treatment again. He decides he isn’t.

But he stands uncomplainingly, waiting for the girl to finish her phone call with another patient so she can schedule him a follow-up appointment he never intends to keep.

As if to contradict his inner rebellion, his nurse Mitaka rushes out with a slip of paper in hand and an apologetic, “Sorry, Mr. Solo, but the doctor wants to start you on this right away and he just wrote it up. Please call if you have questions, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Thanks, kid.” Ben reviews the prescription with more knowledge than any non-medical person should ever have. He doesn’t need the details, and he doesn’t need the talk.

 _Fucking poison. That’s all this is_.

He’s already got the side effects memorized, not just in his mind, but deep down, in the meat wrapped around his bones. Every ounce of him sinks into dread. He’s in for pure hell the instant he fills this prescription.

He tucks the slip carefully into his paperback novel, the book he brought along to read while waiting. He didn’t even open the damned thing. It just couldn’t appeal to him amidst the gnawing worry over his test results and the even worse rush of disappointment and numb horror when the doctor left him alone in the examining room after delivering the bad news.

_I’m not doing it again. Not gonna watch my hair fall out again, not gonna puke my guts out and get puny and pathetic again. Not putting Kay through it. Fuck that._

_Fuck cancer._

That’s the one damned thing, the worst thing about cancer. It’s not going anywhere. It’ll still be there tomorrow and the next day and the next and eventually it’ll just eat away at him, just like all the bitter regret in his heart and the deadness in his soul.

He’ll waste away, one way or the other.

Nobody needs to see that, not that he knows many people. He keeps to himself, minds his own business, lives a quiet, solitary life. Doesn’t bother nobody and nobody bothers him.

Which is fine.

He sighs reluctantly and leans against the counter while the receptionist finishes her call, waiting and listening half-heartedly and sort of shamelessly to another patient’s conversation down the hall.

As he’s eavesdropping, he hears the doctor say everything is good and to come back in six months for a checkup. Sounds like someone had a mole removed and her biopsy looked good.

He tries not to feel jealous and focuses instead on her voice. Perky. Chipper. Too happy. Way too happy on a day like this, the bleakest of days.

But, her voice tickles the edges of his memory, and he recalls Rey Johnson, his high school sweetheart from a million years ago.

He hasn’t seen her in forever.

He wonders if she’s still the same.

And then he realizes it’s actually _her_. She's there, just down the hall. It really is _her_ and a horrible swarming ache fills him.

Like if he sees her right now, he’s going to break down and cry or fall into a rage and swipe the miniature succulent garden off the desk in front of him or wait for Rey to notice him and then ask her to go have a cup of coffee sometime.

Before he remembers.

_You have fucking cancer, Solo. There’s no way she’ll wanna talk to you, anyhow. Too much water under that bridge. Just…let the past die._

Abruptly, he turns and walks out the door and doesn’t look back until he’s all the way to his car. This is when he realizes he’s left his book sitting on the receptionist’s counter, and it has his prescription in it. Not that he'll be filling the damned thing.

But it has his personal information all over it. Someone could steal his identity, although there wouldn't be anything much to steal. Just the name of some old guy with shitty luck and a bad deal and nothing to show for a half-lived life.

_Rey Johnson, huh. I wonder how things turned out for her?_

He almost goes back. _Almost_. Before he remembers why it’s best to leave it.

He goes home, instead. His thoughts can’t unstick themselves from Rey.

He parks his car in the garage and remembers the sight of her in that skimpy cheerleading outfit a lifetime ago, and how his pulse had thumped into double-time when she shyly told him she might let him get to third base after the Homecoming dance if he was up for it.

Oh, he’d been up for it. Except he’d just turned eighteen two days before and she was way too young. So, he broke up with her, instead.

The first mature thing he ever did, and somehow the worst. He remembers how crestfallen she’d been when he tried to explain, the weight of his shiny-new adulthood bearing down on his words, jumbling his feelings with his teenage hormones. Somehow they’d broken up but it was her fault for being too young and not understanding he had a scholarship and he could lose it and that Statutory Rape was a thing that could happen. And he didn’t want to risk it, not to mention she didn’t know what was good for her, since she was just a child, anyhow.

_I wonder what she’s doing now?_

She doesn’t know he’s sitting in his living room at this very moment staring at a loaded .38, how he’s just started the dishwasher for the last time, how he’s really going to do it this time.

How it’s best for everyone if he’s gone.

He’s been dying for a long time now. No point in dragging it out any longer than he needs to.

At least this is something he has control over. Right? And his last thoughts will be about her, Rey, his little sunshine, he used to call her.

The doorbell rings and sudden fury washes through him.

He can’t kill himself with someone just outside, that would be rude.

The doorbell rings again and he finds himself unaccountably annoyed. Whoever is on the other side of the door apparently has no such consideration.

He heaves an exasperated sigh and runs a frustrated hand through his hair and maybe swings the door open with a touch too much force and a bit too much scowl, but his expression freezes when he sees her.

“Rey?”

She holds his book and she’s grinning like she’s happy to see him. Like she doesn’t know he’s sick and lonely and tired and minutes away from ending it all.

“Oh my God, Ben, is it really you?”

Her smile wavers when he doesn’t smile back.

_Fucking smile, dipshit._

“Um. Oh, I’m so sorry. I…guess I’m totally intruding, huh?” She says it hesitantly, sounding exactly like the girl he remembers.

No, she’s a woman now, but youthful still, despite the thread of silver streaking her hair.

Younger than he is by three years, if he remembers right.

“Rey…” he breathes. “Hi. Hey, there, sweetheart.”

Her smile is back, and she holds his book up and says, “You forgot this at the doctor’s and…well, I peeked at your prescription and I saw it was yours and I sort of lied to Kelly to get your address, but you really don’t want to miss the ending. I hope it’s okay I dropped it by…and I thought you’d need your prescription sooner rather than later…” She trails off and she’s staring at him with those wide, hazel eyes.

“Uh. Right. Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Words never came easily to him, especially now.

And he can’t invite her inside because his gun is sitting right there, right on the coffee table and he thinks if she sees it and the hollow look in his eyes she’ll _know_.

He doesn’t want her to know. He’s suddenly ashamed.

But he’s intrigued too. Her eyes sparkle up into his like they share a secret, and he supposes they do, of sorts, a long-ago knowing…and suddenly this girl, no this _woman_ , is pulling him out to the porch while he mumbles a lie and an invitation, “House is a disaster…wanna sit out here and chat?”

She’s too enthusiastic, too animated. Too full of life as she chirps, “Oooh! Yes! Ben, omigod, you need to tell me what you’ve been up to for…shit, how long has it been?”

Ben shakes his head. _The same. She sounds the exact same._

“Actually, I read the book too, all the way through, but I was re-reading. I like to do that sometimes.”

She grins and sits on the porch swing and the swing is kinda rickety, so Ben hunkers into an old wicker chair instead of plunking down next to her. She leans over and slaps his book into his outstretched hand, and it zings with life, that sharp motion lighting a spark of something in his heart.

There’s no darkness here.

Not when he’s basking in the light of this lovely girl who’s really a woman.

He can’t stop staring at her.

And he realizes…he doesn’t want to die.


	2. Burn and Rave

# Chapter Two: Burn and Rave

They talk on his front porch for a good couple of hours, and of course, she asks about his parents and he belatedly recalls how close they’d been back in the day.

Her face falls when he gently explains his mom and dad passed away within months of each other, a few years ago.

It hurts him to see her bright face grow suddenly shadowed with sorrow, but somehow it heals a little too, to remember them the way she does, before they grew old and weak and sick.

_Like me._

Then she beams at him and asks, “God, remember that summer Mom made us help her with the canning?”

Ben chuckles at the memory and a strange _thing_ pangs into his chest when he realizes she still thinks of his mother as “Mom.”

Back in those days, he was positive his mom had been trying to keep them busy with chores purely to be mean.

Maybe now from a different point of view, he suspects she might have been laboring under the misguided belief that if Rey and he were too worn out from sweating over a hot stove and Mason jars for weeks on end, they would somehow lose all inclination to do what teenagers normally do and think about sex non-stop.

He says as much to Rey and the way her laugh travels through the air is like bells pealing on a summer breeze, resonating directly into his dark, beaten-down soul.

She’s still grinning and shaking her head and he fumbles for something to say that isn’t going to send him bursting into tears. It’s been a long time since anyone made him feel like this. A long time.

“You still think of her as Mom, huh?”

“Oh, yes!” she replies, giving the porch a hearty kick with her toe and sending the swing into lively motion until the bolts holding it squeak. Ben reminds himself to make sure the damned thing is secure before she comes back.

_Nah, she won’t come back…why would she?_

“I still make the damn stuff every year. The relish? Mom’s recipe still holds up. In smaller batches, though.”

Except this year he hasn’t. He’s had other things on his mind and –

“Well, it’s late in the season, but I happen to have a garden packed full of zucchini, if you would believe it?”

“Really?” It’s stupid how fast his heart starts to beat, even though he keeps his voice low and neutral.

“I can’t get rid of the darn things fast enough.”

He can’t seem to look away from her hazel eyes snapping back into his. God, he forgot how pretty she is.

_Quit staring like a creep. Lord Almighty, that is definitely not why she’s here._

“Well…if you ever want to bring some around, I could probably use ‘em,” he says, instantly hating himself.

“I sure will!” 

_What the hell, Solo? Now we’re making plans for the future? She’s got better things to do and you’ve got nothing to offer her._

She’s looking at him with a bit of calculation, so he tries to pull his mouth into something not resembling a self-derisive sneer and ends up pressing his lips between his teeth so he doesn’t say anything else that’s completely ridiculous.

She cocks her head and hops up, mumbling an excuse about having to run a few other errands and Ben stands, too, scrubbing his hands on his jeans and not muttering a word in reply because he doesn’t know what else to do.

She doesn’t seem to notice, she just trots lightly down his porch steps and out to the curb where her car is parked, giving him a jaunty wave. His wave is a bit less spirited and he tries to smile like she hasn’t just upended his whole world. But she has, and he finds himself staring down the street, deep in thought, until long after her car is out of sight.

Every time he thinks about her cute little laugh and her lively voice and the way she injects everything around her with such enthusiasm, the corner of his mouth curves into an unfamiliar shape, and he finds it more and more difficult to sink fully back into his gloomy thoughts.

But the week goes on and he doesn’t hear a word from her and even worse, he realizes the only way she has of getting hold of him or vice versa is if she stops by.

She doesn’t, and he tells himself she was just trying to be polite when she mentioned her garden with zucchini to spare.

He's sort of given up on the idea and tries to go about his life, living in a kind of limbo while he waits for something to happen...

...and so he is honestly and pleasantly surprised when she shows up with a couple of plastic grocery bags full of zucchini, waltzing right into his house like she lives there and looking around with her typical unabashed curiosity.

It occurs to him suddenly how Spartan and lifeless the place is. He has hardly any furniture and no clutter whatsoever. It’s a military house, a soldier’s house, has been since he moved here after his wife died and his stepdaughter went off to college.

His wife has been gone for more years than he was ever married to her, and she left behind a daughter Ben sees every now and then, sometimes at holidays.

Kaydel has a daughter, too. Ben is a sort of satellite to them since they live a couple of towns away, but whenever he sees them, Kay’s little girl Ella calls him “Papa Ben” and it always makes him smile.

Ella’s got to be about four maybe five by now, but Ben hasn’t seen the girls since last Christmas.

_Shit has it been that long?_

Almost a year. October’s almost gone. But so is he. He won’t see another autumn.

Unaware of his morbid thoughts, Rey piles her zucchini into his spotless kitchen sink and starts rinsing and asking bossily where’s a bowl or storage container she can use until he’s ready to make his relish.

He digs out a large colander for lack of something to do that isn’t just standing there gawking at her and begins to pat the vegetables dry with paper towels. For a few minutes, they work companionably together at the kitchen sink, looking out the window into his back yard.

She tells him to look at the light, the gorgeous autumn colors, and he mutters something noncommittal. He’s getting tired and sometimes all he can see is gray.

And now, he realizes, he is obligated to make at least one large batch of zucchini relish, which is a ton of work for someone who’s exhausted all the time.

“How about I come back on Saturday and help out? You still play cribbage?”

That snaps him back to life right quick.

He can’t resist her smile and he can’t stop grinning when she insists on coming back with a cribbage board and a deck of cards.

“And then I’m cooking you dinner,” she declares, after prowling through his cupboards and not finding much of anything. “But that is the only mercy you’re getting out of me. As for Crib? You’d better be prepared to have your ass handed to you. I’ve gotten way better.”

He doesn’t have much in the way of groceries and he asks if he needs to pick up anything special besides the relish-making stuff. A trip to the grocery store will surely wear him out, and he’s thoroughly relieved when Rey cocks an eyebrow and insists she’s “got this.”

“Ben, why don’t you have any food in this house?” She’s peering into his fridge and he grunts a noncommittal answer.

He doesn’t want to explain how he wasn’t planning on eating much of anything over the next few months. Rey doesn’t _know_ , and he won’t tell her until he has to. It will change everything, it always does.

True to her word, she comes back and helps him make a batch of relish before cooking him dinner and whooping his ass at cribbage.

He can’t remember when he’s had such a nice time, but he sort of wants to savor it forever because he knows it can’t last, the way she’s looking at him.

Right now, she doesn’t look at him like he’s sick and dying. She just looks at him like he’s…just the same as he’s always been.

And while he really should put a stop to Rey’s attempts to resuscitate their old friendship before things go too far, he can’t quite figure out a way to do it…not just yet.

He still thinks about his .38, unloaded now and sitting in the top drawer of his dresser, wrapped up in a red bandanna.

Rey makes it easier to resist that dark call. Her pull to the light seems to be stronger than his will to die. At least for now.

But it can't last.

The second time she comes over and cooks him dinner, he wants to invite her to come back again soon. He does a quick series of hasty mental calculations, wanting to see her again as soon as possible, but not seem desperate or off-putting.

Then he stops.

He can’t fall for her and maybe have her fall for him and then die and leave her alone to pick up the pieces. He can’t put that kind of pain on a sunny, pretty thing like her.

No. He knows better, but every time he sees her, he becomes a different person, more like the old Ben, the Ben he was before life kicked his ass into the ground.

He knows the score, here. His wife got sick and died and left him and Kay all alone, and he remembers those dark days all too well.

Rey doesn’t look at him like he’s sick, but he knows. He knows better.

Still, he asks, “You up for a rematch next week?”

His heart sinks when she shakes her head and says decisively, “Nope. I’m not coming over here.”

She’s washing the dishes from dinner and he’s wiping them dry and putting them away. He tries to keep his expression neutral.

“You’re coming to my place, next time,” she says instead, and guilt and sunshine spill right onto his heart.

So, he nods and agrees and then he blurts it out while he still has the courage.

“I only have four months to live. That Monday at the clinic. Is when I found out.”

And she grows immediately serious.

“Oh.” She turns off the faucet and leans a hip against the counter and crosses her arms.

“I should have said something earlier. So you…you know. Knew.”

_So you wouldn’t have wasted your time._

He can’t look her in the eye at first, but when he finally works up the nerve to do it, she gives him a kind smile and a tear, but not a patronizing one like the nurses at the clinic.

A strong tear.

“Damn, Ben. Four months?”

“Yep.”

“I was kind of hoping there was a better…different reason for you to be there...”

He shakes his head. _Nope_.

“Cancer?”

“Yep.”

There’s a pause so long he wonders if she’s trying to figure out how to tell him she’s out and not coming back…but suddenly she’s hugging him hard around the middle, just the way he remembers, how she goes all in, her lithe body wrapping around him like she belongs there, like she _fits_.

And it isn’t awful, the memory of it. It doesn’t feel bad.

Ben can’t remember the last time he had a hug. He suspects it’s been a while.

He chokes, then clears his throat, arms wrapped tentatively around her.

“Four months is what they gave me.”

She sighs and he wonders if she’s gonna leave, if this is her saying goodbye, and he hates himself for getting his hopes up that she won't leave.

He knows better than to meddle with hope. But hope burns through him anyway, and maybe a bit of something else he can’t name when she smiles up from her hug and props her chin on his sternum, just like she used to do.

“Well, shit. Then we’d better make sure it’s the best four months of your life.”


	3. Sing the Sun

# Chapter Three: Sing the Sun

**Four Months Later –**

“Miracles happen every day, Ben.”

The doctor said it at yesterday’s checkup, but Ben knows the real miracle is Rey. Things are looking up, and he’s even done with chemo and radiation, so long as Ben stays faithful with his medication and “whatever else seems to be perking you up.”

He can’t wait to tell Rey the news. And when he does, she smirks and says, “Well. Look at you. Still here. Surpassing expectations.”

At her teasing tone, he leans in to kiss her for the first time in forever and mutters against her lips, “Let’s see if we can surpass even more expectations. As soon as I get my mojo back.”

She gives an unrestrained whoop and laughs. He loves the way she laughs, with her whole being, committing her all to it. Not a timid bone in her body.

But even as she kisses him back, she prods his shoulder and he pulls away with a reluctant grin.

That gorgeous dimple dents her cheek, deeper than it used to be, and she smiles at him as if to say, _You sly devil, you. I know your game. You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that. I’ve been around the block a time or two. I’m not going to be swept off my feet so easily by some old dog like you._

When a man gets to a certain age, he starts to think of all things he could have done better and the mistakes he made along the way.

 _Not this time,_ Ben tells himself. _I’m not wasting it this time._

The past four months have been good, good in a way he hadn't expected. But the next few are going to be great.

Over the next few months, he courts her as zealously as he’s done anything in his whole life.

He brings her flowers and spends hours napping on her sofa while she flits around making tea and soup and tucking pillows and generally fussing over him like a mother hen. It’s been a long, long time since someone else fretted over making sure he’s warm and full and comfortable, and he privately admits it is kind of nice not to have to be so stoic and independent all the time.

They play cards when he’s up for it and talk quietly if he’s not up for much of anything.

They watch TV and she knits him beanies to cover his bald head. Just until his hair grows back, she says, and when he gripes, feeling silly about wearing the damn things, Rey reminds him he hates his ears sticking out and being cold even more.

He’s still tired but getting so much better. He tells her a bit more about his life and even a little about the dark days after his wife died. Rey is a good listener, the kind of companion who doesn’t feel the need to talk or say something soothing all the time. Usually, she just nods as if she gets it. Ben thinks she does, but she never says why.

His hair is grown back in, more silver than black this time. He doesn’t technically need the beanies anymore, but he wears them anyhow because it makes Rey’s eyes light up. Besides, he's always got one on a little crooked so she has to get real close to adjust it, standing on tiptoe until her chest brushes against his and pecking a kiss under his jaw every time. Ben doesn’t mind that part at all. Not a bit.

Rey is a good cook and he has taken a liking to eat outside whenever he can.

He especially likes sitting on her back patio with a cup of tea and a newspaper, even if she’s at work, being at her place is far less lonesome. Her living spaces are so different from his, full of green and flowers and plants and pleasant grubby clutter.

She works at a nursery around plants all day, of course. Ben isn’t surprised that she’s got a knack for coaxing things into bloom.

When she talks him into smoking weed for the first time in his life, she swears it is “medicine” and he’ll be fine.

He grumbles about it to cover his nervousness at the idea of not being in full control of himself. He’s a military man and has never done such a thing in all his fifty-some-odd years. She ignores his protests and lights up a joint and holds it to his lips and before he knows it, he’s taking a pull on the damned thing. The first drag is horrid and it’s embarrassing how much he coughs.

She snickers like the quintessential schoolyard pusher and tells him not to be such a pussy. She plucks the joint from him and takes a mocking drag, blowing a lungful of dank smoke into his face with a teasing pucker of her lips. 

“You’ve obviously done this before!” he chokes with mild accusation.

But he snatches the thing out of her hand when she wiggles her eyebrows and dares him to try it again.

He takes another drag, this time like he means it…and they smoke the whole joint between the two of them, which is probably way too much in retrospect because he’s never been this high in his life, not even from the good shit the doctors give him.

And Rey is giggling next to him on a blanket in her backyard.

_When did the stars come out?_

Suddenly he’s _starving_ and she tries to jump up and fetch him some leftovers, always taking his need to eat so _seriously_ , like it is her mission in life to feed him. She trips on the way up and he catches her and pulls her close.

This kiss is rather clumsy because they can’t stop laughing. He has the goddamn munchies now and it’s hilarious.

He laughs until it hurts, until his stomach feels like a wrung-out dishtowel. He laughs as if he’s been holding it in for a lifetime and now that it’s coming out there’s nowhere to put it and nothing he can do to stop it.

Tears of mirth stream down her face and she’s snorting and gasping, and he hugs her tight and mutters, “This is _all_ your fault.”

And it makes no sense, but somehow everything is diabolically comical.

He can’t drive home, won’t be sober for hours, so he offers to sleep on her couch for her and she bellows anew at this, and they find their way inside, two grown adults acting like teenagers.

They stumble to Rey’s room, and his head is spinning and full of thoughts.

Ben’s been in here before, but her bed looks soft and comfy and he sprawls on it face-first and promptly passes out, blazed out of his mind.

A warm softness snuggles next to him, and at some point in the night, he realizes they are still on top of the blankets and fully dressed. More sober now, he fumbles around, pulling off shoes and socks and his jeans and her skirt.

They’re wearing t-shirts, but it’s fine. He drags the blanket and sheet from under her and climbs back in bed, swishing the covers over them both until he falls asleep again. Right before he slips into hazy dreams, she drapes a leg over his, as if to keep him there.

It’s a close call but he manages to keep things – a _specific_ thing – under control.

It’s been a really long time since he’s had these sorts of thoughts.

But he thinks maybe, maybe soon he'll be up for doing something about it.

A few weeks later he’s at her place and really starting to feel good again. He chopped an armful of firewood earlier for her backyard bonfire and it didn’t kill him.

It makes him feel good, actually, to be tired from doing something physical, something useful.

They’re having lasagna for dinner, and he grouses about eating healthier, but only halfheartedly. She hushes him by stuffing a bite into his mouth so he can’t talk.

He chews and swallows and before she can force another forkful of cheesy, saucy goodness on him he teases he probably should be eating more vegetables. He doesn't really give a shit, he just likes to watch the light in her hazel eyes grow militant.

But she only winks and says with a little more melancholy than he expects, “You only live once, Ben Solo. Better eat that lasagna while you can.”

“Why were you at the doctor’s office that day?” He’s suddenly, acutely aware of how much time they spend talking about him.

She pulls her lips in and presses them between her teeth and eventually reminds him she had a mole removed was getting news on the biopsy. But she looks troubled.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Her face grows sad.

She tells him she has a son. This is a surprise. He had no idea.

Suddenly, he's full of questions, but he tries to keep his voice neutral when he asks, “Would you…tell me about him?”

He eats and listens and does his best to let her talk. She tells him about being a single mom and raising a boy…and then she tears up and his heart sort of cracks in half.

“Sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make you sad. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s…actually really good to tell someone. I never talk about it, but…he’s in prison,” she finally explains. “He’s got eight years to go, maybe less with good behavior.”

Ben’s heart sinks with sudden gut-wrenching sympathy as she continues, “He’s in for manslaughter, a DUI. He killed three people when he was driving drunk. He was twenty when it happened. Sentenced to fifteen years.”

Ben takes her hand when he sees the pain of a mother who has lost so much precious time. And the son, what a terrible waste and a stupid mistake and she knows he’s sorry for it, sorrier than anyone could ever know.

Tears stream down her face and he reaches out to take her hand.

“It’s just hard to relate to people about him. And with everything you've been going through...it's...just been easier not to talk about it. I just…feel really alone, sometimes.” 

_The hell you are. I’m here, now._

“You’re not alone,” he growls. 

She sniffs and scans his face and mutters, “Well. Neither are you.”

Abruptly she stands up and starts clearing away their dinner plates and Ben lets her, sensing she needs the distraction.

“I just have to get him through the next few years, keep him positive and focused on the future,” she says firmly over the running faucet, rinsing plates and clattering silverware into the dishwasher. “Keep him from getting discouraged is all. It’s just a waiting game, really. And I know all about waiting.”

“You’re good at giving people the will to live, you know that?” Ben jokes softly. “He’ll be okay.”

“It’s just so hard not to get depressed. Not to give up.”

“Never give up, Rey. I almost did…and I…I’m really glad I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what I tell him! Maybe you could…”

“What?”

“Maybe I could get your name on the visitor's list so you could meet him?”

She’s never acted unsure of anything until now, and if his heart was cracked open before, now it’s shredding itself to pieces right in his chest.

“I’d love to,” Ben says. And he really means it.

A few weeks later they make the trip out to see him, and as stressful as it is to drive for half a day and enter a maximum security facility that looks like something straight out of a nightmare to meet a kid who looks unquestionably like Rey, Ben keeps himself upbeat for Rey’s sake.

The kid’s hazel eyes crawl over him, and it’s unnerving to see such hardened suspicion in eyes that so disconcertingly resemble Rey’s. Ben knows he’s being weighed and measured, although neither one of them says a word out loud.

_Are you good enough for my mom? You gonna treat her right? Take care of her?_

Ben just nods his head and lets Rey do most of the talking. _There isn’t a soul on this earth good enough for her, but I’ll be damned if I won’t try every day. You can take that promise to the bank, kid. I swear._

After that, the kid’s scrutiny becomes a little less doubtful and a bit more grudgingly appreciative. 

But when they leave the horrible, depressing place, Ben can’t escape the rush of gratitude he feels. He can’t imagine being stuck one day in that metal-barred hell, locked up like an animal, and the kid’s already been there seven years.

Seven years and eight more to go.

Kid’ll be halfway through his thirties before he can even start living. But. Better than waiting until he’s fifty, Ben supposes.

“I didn’t even start living until…” _Until I met you_. “Kid’s got plenty of time to make something of his life.”

Being positive is a new thing for him, but when Rey perks up, he wonders how often anyone encourages her, how strong she’s had to be, to have so much love and courage, trying to hold herself together and wait.

She’s good at waiting, she always says. Waiting, and salvaging broken things.

All the way home she tells Ben her dreams for her boy, how she hopes he’ll be able to move on and find someone and maybe have kids of his own someday. And her eyes light up at the idea of being a grandma, although from Ben’s point of view she’s not remotely grandmotherly…way too young. Far too pretty and full of life.

He never got to know his grandparents, so he has nothing to compare it to, but he’s sure someday she’ll be amazing. When he mentions his stepdaughter and her little girl, Rey’s eyes light up and she tells Ben to invite them for family dinner.

He’s been too afraid to love, too scared to let them close, he wants to tell her.

…it will only make their pain worse…when he’s gone.

But Rey won’t hear excuses.

Ben resists at first, but Rey is stubborn as hell when she wants to be. She wears him down far too easily. She won’t hear his reluctant explanations. She wants to meet _that baby_ , she insists. Ben tells her Ella’s four or five, surely not a baby anymore.

But he promises he’ll invite them.

They come for dinner and Ella falls instantly in love with Rey, of course.

Rey introduces herself to Kaydel as Ben’s _girlfriend_ and he can’t help the possessive smile from curling his lips upwards because they have barely even kissed since they were in high school.

And he wants to do a helluva lot more. Especially since his doses have finally been reduced and his libido is back. He hasn’t acted on it. Yet.

But he’s been thinking about it…a lot.

After Kay and Ella leave, he pulls Rey close and gives her a smooch and it turns into a bit of a feel-up and she goes all breathless and skittish, and it’s so damned sexy he can’t stop grinning because she feels it too, this horrible, wonderful vulnerability, and she’s a little scared, he can tell.

He hasn’t felt this way in a very long time.

Maybe he’s never felt this way.

He goes to bed that night and for once he doesn’t dwell on thoughts of death or prison or cancer. Or things beyond his control. He’s not going to waste any more time on that garbage.

No, he goes to bed and falls asleep with the sweet taste of _her_ still on his lips. And something else.

It’s hope.


	4. Rage, Rage

# Chapter Four: Rage, Rage

## No Man is an Island

_No man is an island entire of itself; every man_   
_is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;_   
_if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe_   
_is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as_   
_well as any manner of thy friends or of thine_   
_own were; any man's death diminishes me,_   
_because I am involved in mankind._   
_And therefore never send to know for whom_   
_the bell tolls; it tolls for thee._

_\- John Donne_   
_MEDITATION XVII, Devotions upon Emergent Occasions_

The holidays are coming, and what’s more romantic than that?

Even better, Ben’s doctors are tentatively positive. They are careful about using words like “hopeful” and “remission” and “success”, and Ben knows things are still touch and go, despite the hesitant optimism. They won’t confirm anything until his next round of tests, scheduled for January. But there is definite hope in the air.

And if this is really supposed to be his last Christmas, then goddammit he’s going to make it count.

He takes the time to court her properly this time, and every day he finds himself falling even more in love with her. It’s easy. She sparkles brighter than the Christmas decorations already up in the stores way too early.

She insists on making Thanksgiving dinner for him and the girls because she hasn’t had a reason to put on a big spread for a long, long time. He knows _why_ she hasn’t, and so he agrees to let her do whatever she wants.

It makes Ben sad to think of the lonely Thanksgivings she’s had since her son was sent to prison, but he's also happy she doesn’t have to spend this one alone.

He’s a good baker and he will make a pie the night before. On the day itself, he plans to lurk in the kitchen and help mash potatoes and watch Rey make cranberry sauce and taste anything she feeds him, and he has never looked forward to something so much in his life.

Maybe he’ll have just a sip of wine because his medicine really doesn’t agree with it. _You only live once,_ Rey always says, and he supposes a sip won't kill him.

On Thanksgiving morning he wakes up way too early and when Rey gets there with another armload of groceries, he puts on some jazz music in the background, something upbeat and unobtrusive, and plants his butt in a kitchen chair, not planning on budging an inch, even though Rey assures him it won’t hurt her feelings if he wants to watch football instead.

Wild horses can’t drag him away.

Besides, Rey is having such a wonderful time. She’s putting on a good show of having fun stuffing the turkey and peeling potatoes and letting him sample everything and even making him a little snack plate halfway through cooking, so he has something to munch on until dinner is ready. He’s never seen so much food in his kitchen all at once, and he mentally calculates if his freezer has the capacity to handle the expected vast quantity of leftovers.

He watches her make an absolute disaster of his kitchen, and it breaks his heart all over again when he realizes _why_ she’s practically luminescent with happiness.

She’s missed so much. She’s been so lonely. An island unto herself. But no one can live like that for long. As he well knows.

_I can’t leave her alone. I have to live. And fight. So she’s never lonely again._

He’s going to marry her, he decides, if only he can work up the courage to ask.

Ben gives her a soft smile and obediently samples gravy from a spoon and declares it perfect, just as the doorbell rings.

_Kay and Ella._

They’ll adore the idea of bringing Rey into the family, he just knows it.

Dinner is a wonderful success, and the ladies shoo him into the living room to hang out with Ella and keep her occupied while Rey and Kaydel make quick work of washing dishes and packing up leftovers. Over Ella’s non-stop chatter, he can hear snippets of low-voiced conversation from the kitchen, punctuated with frequent laughter and confidential whispering that reminds him Christmas will be here soon.

_They’re probably talking presents…which reminds me. I need to go to the jewelry store tomorrow._

His heart is filled with so much, he’s sure there isn’t room for more.

All too quickly the day is over, and it’s getting dark and the roads will inevitably get icy, so Kay and Ella depart with kisses and hugs and promises to come back soon.

And when Rey mentions she should probably head home, too, Ben pulls her into his arms and he’s never been this nervous when he mutters a hesitant invitation.

“You could just spend the night?” he asks around an enormous lump climbing up his throat. “I could use some help getting an early start on all those leftovers tomorrow…”

She smirks and shakes her head seeing straight through his flimsy justification. In answer, she hooks a finger into the top of his jeans and leads him through the house without a word.

But she doesn’t need to say a goddamned thing. His heart expands to impossibly full as she bites her lip when they arrive at his cool, dimly lit bedroom and quietly giggles, “You want to go all the way with me, Ben Solo?”

“Hell, yeah,” he grins, already shucking her out of her clothes with far too much enthusiasm. “I always did want to get to home base with a hot cheerleader…”

She snorts, and Ben is pretty sure it’s the sexiest sound he’s ever heard.

They make love for the first time and it’s been more years than he cares to remember, and he’s different now, more patient, more appreciative of taking his time. It’s beautiful and _she’s_ beautiful. She’s a little self-conscious so he shushes her with kisses until she’s as lost as he is.

She’s perfect.

After, when they’re finally sated, he can’t sleep because his heart is too full, too fragile, and she’s dozed off already. But he can’t seem to shut down his racing thoughts.

Why couldn’t they have stayed together when they were young? When they had all the time in the world?

Why couldn’t they have had more time?

And he can feel it, actually feel every grain of sand in the hourglass of his life slipping away, never to be retrieved again…

This thought makes him terribly scared.

Because he knows he can’t do it to Rey, the thing his wife did to him. Get sick and die and leave people behind. Suddenly the idea of marrying her is terrifying.

He doesn’t sleep hardly at all, and the next morning, before either of them are barely awake, they fight.

Under the guise of full disclosure, he tries to cool things down a bit, and it backfires spectacularly. Over their morning coffee, he bluntly tells her the day they met he was going to kill himself.

He just blurts it out without even thinking, telling her how close he was to doing it. How if she'd been five minutes later that day, he wouldn't be here now.

She doesn’t react at all how he expects. Not at all. In fact, she calls him a coward and jumps up and flings a few random kitchen utensils into a grocery bag and hauls on her coat and she’s got her boots halfway on, too, glaring at him the whole time, before he realizes she’s overreacting by more than a bit.

He tells her so and she whirls on him, shoving at his chest, eyes full of tears.

“How could you be so selfish? You have a family who _loves_ you. How can you leave them like that? And not…fight…to…”

She bursts into tears, and he realizes there’s more underneath. Much more.

He scoops her up and carries her to the sofa and lets her cry it out, eventually getting to the heart of the matter.

He always knew, even back in high school, her parents had abandoned her when she was little. But he didn’t know about later, how she lost someone to suicide. It was her son’s father who died and left her to raise their baby alone.

She never told her son and she’s been carrying it around inside for years and years, waiting for the right time to tell him.

“I’m…going to tell him when he’s out of prison, but…I just couldn’t before. But the idea of someone giving up on their family...it's so hard.”

Their lives are like terrible broken poems that rhyme.

And she makes him swear not to do anything stupid and suddenly they are kissing again, and she says she loves him, and he chokes up. He can't quite say it back so instead, he says, “I know.”

Because he does know. He knows her.

_I have to live. I can’t get scared. I can’t ever leave her alone._

_I’ll propose_ , he thinks. He’ll do it on New Year’s Day.

A perfect day for a fresh start.

Maybe he only has a month to live, maybe he has a year. He cannot dwell on it.

She’s strong, stronger than she knows. Whatever happens, happens. If he dies, he dies. She's strong and he can at least show her he's willing to fight.

He tells himself every day, every time she smiles at him, every time she says she loves him.

The stakes are so high now, too high. The harder he falls, the harder it is to work up the courage to tell her he loves her, too.

The words aren't enough really. And yet they're so fucking permanent. 

She’s his beacon of light. She’s his everything.

He'll show her how hard he can fight to live. He makes her that promise whenever his thoughts turn dark.

He’ll never go back to that place. Now he’s got an engagement ring tucked into his top dresser drawer, where his .38 used to be.

He's going to have to do more than show her. He's going to have to tell her. 

New Year’s day arrives and he’s jumpy with nerves and adrenaline. She’s late.

She isn’t great at checking the time, and she sometimes gets wrapped up in projects.

He calls and she doesn’t answer, and he reminds himself not to be impatient.

But hours and hours pass. Her phone sends him straight to voicemail now, and he’s sure the battery is probably dead. Maybe she forgot she was supposed to come over to his house and thinks he’s coming to hers instead.

He almost forgets to grab her ring before making the short drive to her place.

He goes inside – she’s got a spare key hiding in the back – but the house is empty.

Just when he starts to panic, thinking maybe she’s gone to his house after all, his phone rings.

He chuckles. It’s her.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The person speaking back to him isn’t Rey. It’s a stranger’s voice, a man’s voice.

The man asks if he is Ben and Ben replies with an automatic yes, heart thudding to a stop.

Something’s wrong, something isn’t right.

The man doesn’t want to give details. He works at the hospital. Ben is listed as the ICE contact for Rey, and they haven’t been able to find any other available family or friends.

The man explains there was a car accident last night, but Ben wants to argue. It can’t have been Rey.

She wasn’t planning on going out, she told him so.

The man asks if Ben can come down to the hospital.

Ben says he’ll be right there. His hands are shaking. He was a soldier, in the military for a long time. Not even being shot at is as scary as this.

He drives to the hospital, muttering distractedly to himself and he runs right in through the Emergency Room entrance.

The triage nurse stops him, at first thinking he’s ill, but he hastily explains he got a call.

Someone guides him to Patient Services.

A nice young woman, younger than Kay, almost young enough to be his granddaughter, sits him down in an uncomfortable chair with hideous pastel upholstery. She explains there was an accident last night. Rey was hit by a drunk driver who crossed the center line into oncoming traffic. The driver died at the site of the crash.

She says Rey passed away that morning at seven o’clock.

"No," he says simply.

"Sir, I'm sorry but..."

"No!" he shouts.

The young woman looks quite alarmed when Ben slams his fist onto the table and he’s big, bigger than most people and he forgets sometimes he can be scary. He whispers he’s sorry, but there’s been a mistake.

"You're wrong," Ben argues. “It’s not her.”

She says the doctors did everything they could, but Ben just shakes his head.

Rey wasn’t going out last night, he insists. She was going to turn in early and take a bubble bath and read the book he got her for Christmas.

He’s upset. There’s obviously been a mistake, and he wants to know what room she’s in, but the young lady tells him she’s gone.

And deep down, Ben knows she’s telling the truth.

The woman asks if he has anyone he can call and Ben shakes his head, momentarily confused.

It’s Rey. _She’s_ the someone he can call.

Rey is his _person,_ the only one he can think of only he can’t call her. Not if this young woman is telling the truth.

Rey is gone.

She’s gone and he’s still here and he never said it to her face.

How much he loves her.

He was going to. Today. But now he can’t.

He can’t even be mad at the driver who hit her because he’s fucking dead.

He was drunk, they said, and Ben wants to tear the shabby little office apart every time he thinks about it.

But he buries his rage. After living so many years, he knows rage won’t change the truth.

The young woman looks at him expectantly, giving him the kind of sympathy that is half genuine and half very awkward.

He's a stranger in her office and he's upset. He knows she probably has other things to do today besides watch some old guy’s world implode. He has to ask her to repeat her questions and nods agreeably when she suggests he shouldn’t drive right now.

Ben mutters he has a stepdaughter and the girl helps him call Kaydel and shows him to a waiting area where he can sit until Kay can come and pick him up.

Kay arrives and rushes in and looks so worried, but Ben can’t say the words out loud, the words that will make it real. So he stands stoically by while the kind young woman from the hospital explains what happened to Rey. And he waits for someone to tell him what to do next.

Eventually, he does have to say it, though. Or at least acknowledge it.

It beats in his chest like a drum. _Rey is gone,_ _she's_ _gone. Rey is gone._

Kay drives him home and insists on staying at the house for a couple of days, cleaning and shopping and making food and storing it in the freezer, so he has something to heat up after she leaves, and reminding him to take his meds and shower and try to get some sleep. 

She promises to come back and check on him as much as she can. But she left Ella with a sitter and she needs to get back.

“You can bring Ella next time,” Ben grunts, staring out the window. It’s going to snow tonight, and it occurs to him he can’t remember if he locked up properly when he left Rey’s place.

“Okay,” Kaydel agrees, “but with my work and Ella’s daycare schedule it might be a week or so before I can make it back. You can come up and stay with us, too. If you need anything.”

Impulsively, he says, “Kay. I never said it before, but…after your mom died, you…I never…I wasn’t much of a help. And you were just a kid, still, but you sure…helped me then. I love you for it. And for now.”

Kay gives him a sad smile and a hug and mutters, “I know. Thanks, Ben. For saying it.”

It's comforting, her words. But she has to leave and now he’s alone, and the darkness has never come so hard or fast.

Ben thinks about the engagement ring in his top dresser drawer and the .38 wrapped in a red bandanna in the closet, shoved under a stack of old sweaters he kept meaning to send with Rey on her next trip to Goodwill.

Somehow the two objects, the ring and the gun, are intertwined, and he feels like he’s living in one of those TV shows with a countdown and he has to make a decision.

It’s the middle of the night when he finally gets out of bed and gets dressed and locks up and drives to Rey’s place.

Better to be here, he thinks, than at his place with the gun and the ring and the memories.


	5. That Good Night

# Chapter Five: That Good Night

Time marches on, and there’s not a damned thing he can do about it.

But he’s changed, now. He’s connected to life again.

Rey did that.

He can no longer live in isolation. Every time he tries to retreat, he hears her voice in the back of his mind, reminding him he has a family who loves him.

And so does she.

And since he doesn’t want to ever lose that voice again, not until his dying breath, he does the only thing a man can do. He lives.

But the hardest part to come to grips with is her son.

The kid still has plenty of time to serve and not a soul on the outside who gives a shit about him. Ben knows it’s true because Rey mentioned it about a million times.

That first visit after, though, it’s rough.

The kid sends a letter asking for Ben to come talk. Well, it’s more of a note. Nothing else, not a “sorry for your loss” or even a _please_ or _thank you_ , just a brief request for Ben to visit as soon as possible if he can.

This just pisses him off for some reason. As if a fucking _murderer_ has a right to impose on his time.

He works himself up into a proper lather, in fact, dwelling on the horrible irony that Rey was killed in the same way her own kid took out three innocent lives.

Fueled by righteous anger, Ben drives all the way to the prison, fully intent on delivering a bitter lecture about drunk driving and a merciless fare-thee-well before washing his hands of the kid for good.

 _Karma is a real bitch,_ Ben tells himself.

He’d planned on coming with Rey and announcing their engagement at their next visit. But now?

The kid is already waiting for him when he gets there, a small sheaf of papers in the middle of the cold metal table. But Ben hardly notices the papers for the haunted look in the kid’s eyes. Rey’s eyes.

_Aww, fuck. If things had worked out differently, I reckon this could have been our kid._

And just like that, his rage evaporates. He can’t be mad at a person with eyes like Rey’s, not when they are brimming with unrelenting anguish.

Ben sighs and seats himself across from the kid, and for a few minutes, they just look at each other. Eventually, the kid looks away, eyes rimmed in red and looking suspiciously wet. But he pulls himself together before anyone else catches it.

Despite himself, Ben’s impressed. So, he does his best to blink his own tears away and steady the uneven shudders rising in his chest. He still can’t speak for fear of bursting into uncontrollable sobbing, so he waits. But he supposes if this kid can hold his shit together for Rey’s sake, then he can do the same. They both loved her, after all.

After a minute or two, the kid starts talking. Talking about her, all the letters she wrote, how she was a constant source of light in this bleak nightmare, about her plans for him when he got out, and even some of the stuff she said about Ben.

Ben’s attention perks up at the mention of his name. And when the kid finally gets around to it, he asks Ben to take on power of attorney over Rey’s estate. There’s not much there, but the house is paid off, and she had a bit in the bank to cover taxes and things until…

“…and whatever isn’t covered by the estate, well, I’m hoping you might be willing to loan me until I can pay you back. I dunno how much shit costs on the outside, but I know there’s taxes and maintenance and shit. I was thinking maybe I’d rent out the house to –”

Ben cuts him off, unwilling to admit the idea of a stranger living in Rey’s house bothers him too much.

“I’ll help ya, kid. I...loved your mom -" It's still hard to get the words out. "- and I reckon the least I can do is set things right for her blood. But if I agree to it, there are two things you gotta know.”

The palpable relief on the kid’s face is quickly covered by a stoic mask and Ben eases up on the gruffness just a bit.

“The first thing is…I have cancer. It’s in remission for now, but it could come back and there’s a good chance I’ll be dead before your sentence is up. So, I’d ask that you let me find a good lawyer to handle things from there if I die before you’re out.”

The kid nods.

“That’s a lot of trust you’re giving me,” Ben warns. “I could take everything you’ve got and screw you over real good, if I wanted to.”

“Mom liked you,” he says simply. “That’s good enough for me.”

Ben nods.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Well. The idea of strangers living in your mom’s house don’t sit too well with me. I’ve heard enough horror stories about bad tenants to know renting is often more trouble than it’s worth.”

“So, you think I should try to sell the house?” The kid looks skeptical, but Ben shakes his head.

“Nah. I was thinking…maybe I could just live there and keep up on the place until you get out.” For the first time, he feels a little nervous, like a child asking for permission to do something he's not quite sure is okay.

But the kid breaks into a genuine grin at this and leans back in his crappy plastic chair. “Mom always said you were a skeptical one. But I reckon that might work out just fine. If you live that long.”

“Well, shit,” Ben counters with a grin of his own, “I guess I’ll have to try not to die, then.”

And by God, he does try.

That week, he files the papers and puts his own place on the market and starts packing with a surprising lack of sentimentality. And he moves on into Rey’s place. Some days it's like she’s still there.

Ben can try to make sure the kid has something to come home to. It keeps him going, that and the fact her son needs to know how much she loved him.

Ben just has to survive long enough to explain it to him.

And in the meantime, while he’s doing time right along with the kid, he knows Rey would have wanted him to _live_.

A few weeks after moving in, he works up the courage to start going through her things. He finds a half-written letter she wrote to her son. The date jumps out at him and it takes him a minute to figure out why.

She wrote it the day Ben was supposed to die. The date he’ll never forget, four months exactly from the day he met her again at the doctor's office. They’d only given him four months to live, but he’d lived past it, a miracle.

He feels bad about intruding, but Rey is gone, and her son won’t be out for years, so Ben opens the letter and wonders why she never sent it. But after he reads it, he thinks he knows why.

It’s all about Ben and full of her words that explain her hopes for him. She tells her son of the kind, sad man she met four months ago and how she sensed his deep depression for feeling like his life was a waste. She wrote how Ben inspired her beyond whatever she could have imagined.

She thought he was strong and brave, and she felt the same about her son.

Ben can barely read the words, Rey’s words, but he forces himself to go on. He has to read it all, and he has to live, so he can explain it to her kid. He never had the chance to say it to her, but he’ll be damned if he can’t do better this time around…

It hits him again, like a thunderbolt, that he’ll never talk to her again, not in this life, and he puts his head in his hands and cries all his tears, sure the burning ache in his chest is never going to leave him. But he has to figure out a way to live with it.

For a while, every time he finds something that reminds him, he almost gives up. But then he finds an old “today” list – she never called them to-do lists – and on it, among the shopping and bill paying are the words: _Take care of Ben_.

It feeds the light in his heart like nothing else. He couldn’t tell her he loved her in time, but he can tell her son what she meant to him, how much love she had inside. Maybe he knows he wasted the most precious thing – time – but is reminded he can’t do it again. 

Maybe she can see him now from wherever she is. And that has to be enough to live on.

And the years pass.

He follows a routine, religiously, just the way she used to have him do. He’s practiced her recipes a hundred times apiece and he knows if she were still here, she’d agree that his version of the lasagna might just have hers beat.

He keeps her garden going. And every year, he invites Kay and Ella to help him make the zucchini relish. Ella sprouts up from a cute kid into a sweet young lady, and Ben faithfully goes to all of her sporting events and school plays, and even a couple of science fairs. Kay’s doing a fine job raising her on her own, but Ben makes it a point to remind her he’s around if she needs anything.

From what Rey told him of it, he knows single parenting can be real rough.

“You’re not alone, Kay,” he says. And Kay always grins and replies right back, “Neither are you.”

And he isn’t.

Before he knows it, the kid’s due to be out of prison, and Ben has met with parole officers and even let them visit the house to make sure it’s a suitable place for a parolee. 

So, Ben sticks around and the kid moves into the second bedroom, and Ben is a little relieved the kid isn’t territorial at all, since he views Rey’s room as theirs. Technically the house belongs to the kid, and Ben could get the boot any time. But he never comes out and says anything about moving and the kid never brings it up.

For the first few months, they live together by silent agreement, neither one feeling they have full rights to the place, but neither willing to cede their spot, either.

The kid’s good at doing stuff around the house without being asked. He’s looking for work, but it’s hard with a felony record. Ben can tell the kid feels guilty, like he should be doing more to pitch in money-wise, but Ben isn’t worried about it, and he tells the kid so every day.

“Ain’t no skin off my nose to throw another steak on and feed one more person. Actually, I kinda like it. Reminds me to eat. And you do your share around here. It’s not a burden.”

Secretly, Ben enjoys the company. The kid is quiet and mellow and generally keeps to himself, still finding his feet in this new world he’s in.

And eventually, they get a bit more comfortable around each other. Ben learns the kid is a good cribbage player, almost as good as he is, and a nightly game or two becomes part of the routine.

Every once in a while, the kid will open up about prison life and Ben finds himself equally fascinated and horrified by the stories. As he gets older, he has a greater appreciation for listening to a different point of view. The kid’s a good listener, too, and he lets Ben talk about Rey and his past all he wants.

The days fly by, and the new normal isn’t bad at all. The ache in his heart from missing Rey softens from sharp, unendurable grief into a gentler sort of pain. The kind you can carry around and appreciate when you feel it because it reminds you somebody good once loved you.

It baffles him how fast the days turn into weeks and then even into years. Ben’s hair is streaked with more white than silver now, and Kay and Ella come round a bit more. Ella is almost through middle school and she’s into horses and joined the school swim team. Ben goes and hollers himself hoarse at her swim meets whenever he isn’t feeling too run down.

He’s getting tired again though, and…he has a feeling his time’s almost up.

Spring comes around and, by unspoken agreement, the kid takes over the project of planting Rey’s garden. Ben’s arthritis is getting too bad for him to spend much time doing that kind of backbreaking work.

He has mixed feelings about it. He’s glad the garden is still growing, but he can only watch the kid working on it for minutes at a time, at first. The reminder of her kneeling over her precious plants is too fresh in his mind, even all these years later. And it’s the wrong pair of hazel eyes glowing with excitement when the first sprouts appear.

But Kay and Ella are invested, too, and they come over almost every day to help pull weeds and water the sprouts and check on Ben.

Ben’s been around the block a time or two and he knows the garden might not be the _only_ reason for Kay to come round so often. He definitely sees a bit of romance sprouting between the kid and Kaydel, and it sets his mind at ease, knowing the world still has room for love in it. Kay needs someone to love her. Ben's done his best to be there for Ella, too, but he knows she’s at the age where she needs more than a gruff old grandpa in her life.

The girl needs a father, and so Ben invites them over as often as he can get away with without being too obvious about the matchmaking.

It’s nice for the company, and eventually, the kid finds work down at the local A & P. He seems relieved to have something to contribute, and once he can provide for himself, his self-confidence starts to shine through.

“I suppose now you can manage things on your own, you don’t need me around anymore,” Ben says softly over the crib board that night.

The kid doesn’t argue, and Ben resigns himself to finding another place to live. But then the kid says, “I’m mighty grateful sir. For all you’ve done. More than I ever hoped for, to be honest. I know everything you did was for her sake more than mine. But I ain’t never had no kind of father before. ‘Till you came along. I hope…I hope you’ll consider staying on here as long as you want.”

A tear prickles the backs of Ben’s eyes, then another. Shit.

_Getting too sentimental in my old age. Turning into a goddamn sprinkler system. Buck up, Solo._

“Well. As for everything I did, I reckon Rey wouldn’t have had it any other way. You know your mom was stubborn as a mule.” The kid cracks a rare smile and the dam inside Ben seems to shudder for want of spilling over. “I’d be…right pleased to stay here and keep ya company.”

After that, things are different. Easier than they were before. Maybe it’s because Ben finally found a way to forgive the fates for taking her away. Maybe it’s because he knows she’d be so damned proud of him for doing the hard thing, even if it was the right thing all along.

But he schedules a doctor’s appointment to get checked again. And sure enough, the results of his bloodwork are just as he expected. The cancer is back, and Ben knows this time is gonna be different.

He still has all the beanies Rey knitted him, though, and he likes the idea of having one last chance to wear them.

He tells the kids the news and makes his plans and spends too much time rambling over his stories, knowing it’s the last opportunity he has to tell them, and it's a gift Rey never got, to plan to die. He talks more about his parents, too, and Kay’s mom, and Rey, always Rey.

And one day, when he knows it’s almost time to go, the kid comes to him, and sits him down all formal-like, looking nervous as a whore in church.

Ben is old enough to wait for the kid to spit it out and not get pushy. And after a while, the kid says, “I know you hung in there all this time just for Mom, and for me. I know what I did, killing those people. It…” He breaks off, and Ben holds his tongue. “Aside from her, you’re the only family I’ve ever had. You and Kay, and Little El. I wanna marry her. Kaydel. How would you feel about me calling you Dad?”

Ben smiles. He loves it.

He knows Rey will love it, too.

He’ll be sure to tell her first thing when he sees her again.

Soon. It’ll be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know if you're reading this, you are probably sad right now. I just really wanted to get it out, especially after so much unresolved grief over TROS.
> 
> Don't let the day go by without telling your people you love them. Do not go gentle into that good night.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
>  Find me on Twitter for fic updates, DMs, and occasional thirst tweets and rampant horniness! [@beegood_amy](https://twitter.com/beegood_amy)  
>   
> My works:
> 
> A/B/O:  
> [House of The Rising Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21512809/chapters/51276604) (A/B/O, Epic Scale Fantasy with a Canon-flavor, Read the tags, WIP to resume soon)  
> [The Wickedy Witch of Carnegie Hill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450107/chapters/64445872) (A/B/O, Enchanted AU, Fluffy, Sweet, Low-angst, WIP)  
> [First Knot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978156) (Preylo, A/B/O, quick and FILTHY, COMPLETE)  
> [Bad Neighbors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17874359) (A/B/O, cop/lawyer, enemies-to-lovers, COMPLETE)  
>   
> Darker Stuff:  
> [Dirty Deeds](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28675278) (DARK, BREYLO, BENLO, one-shot that may be more someday)  
> [creep](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/25554175/chapters/62008714) (Stalker, DARKFIC, Thriller, WIP)  
> [Body of Work](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/24723547/chapters/59762740) (Soulmates, Killers, COMPLETE)  
> [Little Animals](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19902718) (DARKFIC, SMUT, Read the Tags, COMPLETE)  
> [GatorWestern](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502323) (Vampire/Horror WIP, COMPLETE)  
>   
> Short and Smutty:  
> [Double Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903981/chapters/47144941) (Breylo, Benlo, Absolutely raunchy filth, smut, COMPLETE)  
> [Smoke Gets In Your Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231210) (Short fic, stoner soulmates, filthy smut, COMPLETE)  
> [Fire Down Below](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659043/chapters/49061249) (Filthy two-shot, Porn AU, crack, COMPLETE)  
> [Freak Show](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1098873) (Circus AU, Comedy, one-shot series)  
> [Special Order](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836562) (one-shot)  
> [Urinal Cake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412686) (one-shot, no urine or cakes involved, I swear!)  
>   
> Long and Plotty (and also Smutty):  
> [Say It With Feeling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710287) (Funny, Escort/Sugar Daddy AU, smutty, COMPLETE)  
> [Music To My Ears](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121106) (Classical Music/Assassins AU, re-booting WIP)  
> [Devil on the Dark Side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287023) (Modern Hades/Persephone Fairy Tale WIP, one more chapter to go!)  
>   
> Also: [Into That Good Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437334/chapters/53609257) (Sweet, Rated M, Emotional, COMPLETE)
> 
> Currently, Cake, American Stars, Knotting Hill, Every Which Way But Loose, and The Secret Flower Club are all waiting behind hidden doors until I wrap up a few other WIPs.  
> Although my WIPs are in varying stages of progress, I can promise none of them are abandoned, just resting. :)
> 
> XOXO!


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